[9] It would expedite matters much if the groom did this while you remained near the pony to feed him, or vice versÂ.

[10] “Imitative creatures!” who can doubt it? If you make an old dog perform a trick several times in the sight of a young one who is watching the proceedings, you will be surprised to see how quickly the young one will learn the trick, especially if he has seen that the old dog was always rewarded for his obedience.

[11] Obedience to all such signals will hereafter be taught out of doors at gradually increased distances: and to confirm him in the habit of sniffing high in the air (41) for whatever you may then hide, put the bread or meat on a stick or bush, but never in a hedge (175). With the view to his some day retrieving, as instanced in 277, it will be your aim to get him not to seek immediately, but to watch your signals, until by obeying them you will have placed him close to where the object lies, at which precise moment you will say energetically “Find,” and cease making any further signs.

[12] The least comprehensive and logical of the expressions, yet one often used. A dog being no critical grammarian, understands it to apply to “fur” as well as “feather.”

[13] With a resolute, reckless, dashing dog you may advantageously employ a thinner cord of double that length,—whereas, the shortest line will sometimes prevent a timid animal from ranging freely. By-the-bye, the thinner the cord the more readily does it become entangled,—as a rule, a checkcord cannot be too firmly twisted,—a soft one quickly gets knotted and troublesome. (See note to 262.)

[14] The printer finds this note on covers, shooting, and loading, so long that he will place it in an Appendix.

[15] These fetch immense fancy prices when well shaped,—black and tan, without a single white hair, and long eared. But this breed is nearly useless to the sportsman, whereas the Blenheim is a lively diligent little fellow in light cover, and from his diminutive size threads his way through low thick brushwood more readily than might at first be imagined, being incited to great perseverance by a most enthusiastic enjoyment of the scent. In strong high turnips, he is employed with much advantage to spring the partridge. He creeps under, where a larger dog would be constantly jumping.

[16] For the benefit of those who have the good fortune, or the bad fortune, as the case may be, of always living within the sound of Bow bells, “Flick,” be it observed, is a synonym for “Fur,” thereby meaning Hare, or Rabbit.

[17] But when the moors are covered with snow, poachers, who emerge in bands from the mines, often put a shirt over their clothes, and manage to approach grouse at a time when a fair sportsman cannot get a shot; but this is the only occasion on which one uniform colour could be advantageous. A mass of any single colour always catches, and arrests the eye. Nature tells us this; animals that browse, elephants, buffaloes, and large deer, as well as those which can escape from their enemies by speed, are mostly of one colour. On the contrary, the tiger kind, snakes, and all that lie in wait for, and seize their prey by stealth, wear a garment of many colours, so do the smaller animals and most birds, which are saved from capture by the inability of their foes to distinguish them from the surrounding foliage or herbage. The uniform of our rifle corps is too much of one hue.

[18] A drier and cleaner article than you may suppose, and which can be carried not inconveniently in a Mackintosh, or oil-skin bag,—a toilet sponge bag.

[19] If a retriever has the opportunity, while prowling about, of gnawing hare or rabbit-skins thrown aside by a slovenly cook, it will not be unnatural in him, when he is hungry, to wish to appropriate to himself the hide, if not the interior of the animals he is lifting.

[20] This reasoning obviously does not apply to the retrievers employed in those battues where rapid slaughter is “the order of the day,”—where the sportsmen do not condescend to charge their own guns, but are constantly supplied with relays of loaded arms.

[21] I once had a pointer pup whose dam was broken in (after a fashion) and regularly shot to when seven months old. Without injury to her constitution, she could not have been hunted for more than an hour or two at a time. She ought not to have been taken to the held for regular use until fully a year old.

[22] I often shoot over a setter bitch (belonging to one of my relations) that has capital feet, but is very defective across the loins. She is extremely fast, and a brilliant performer for half a day; but she then shuts up completely. A little rest, however, soon brings her round for another half day’s brilliant work. Unless a dog is particularly light in body, bad feet quickly scald upon heath or stubble, and they are longer getting round, than is a bad loined dog in recovering from a day’s fatigue.

[23] A trick that historical research probably would show to have been devised in a conclave of house-maids, and which was constantly performed by one of my oldest acquaintances, “Little-brush,” a worthy son of the “Dearest-of-men,” as he used to be called by his fond mistress, who, I need not say, had no children of her own on whom to lavish her caresses.

[24] It is astonishing what myriads of fleas are bred in the sand in many hot countries. When walking along some of the roads during the spring, numbers of the little creatures will pay you the compliment of attaching themselves to your dress and person. At Bermuda they so regularly make their appearance with the whales, that the Niggers think there must be some intimate, however mysterious, connexion between the two. In India the natives expel the intruders from their houses by strewing fresh saffron leaves about the rooms; and a decoction from these said leaves, applied liberally to a dog’s coat, rids him of the unwelcome visitors, however numerous. I have read that the same good effect will be produced if his hair be well wetted with a solution of the gum of the sloe-tree in water. Fourteen grains of the gum to one quart of water.

The capture of the whale, by-the-bye, at Bermuda, affords sport as exciting as it is profitable. The fish are struck within sight of the Islands, and as the water is shoal, owing to sandbanks, a short line is employed. By this line the stricken animal tows the harpooner’s boat along with fearful rapidity, an immense wave curling far above the high bow. The flesh of the young whale is excellent,—very like veal,—and with the black population the whaling season is one of great feasting and enjoyment. By a colonial law no charge can be made for the flesh of the fish. Every comer has a right to carry off as much of the meat as he may require, but no blubber. On a whale being killed, a well-known signal, hoisted at the several look-out posts, quickly informs the coloured inhabitants of the successful seizure, and whether it has been effected at the north or south side. Numerous claimants then hurry off, on foot or in boat, to secure a sufficiency for several days’ consumption, of a food they prize far more than beef or mutton. What is not immediately used is cut into strips, and dried in the sun.

[25] In ordinary seasons immediately after St. Valentine’s Day,—before the birds have made their nests.

[26] “Leeward”—a nautical phrase—here meaning the side towards which the wind blows from the field. If you entered elsewhere, the dog while ranging would be tempted, from the natural bearing of his nose towards the wind, to come back upon you, making his first turn inwards instead of outwards.

[27] But, independently of these obvious reasons, scent is affected by causes into the nature of which none of us can penetrate. There is a contrariety in it that ever has puzzled, and apparently ever will puzzle, the most observant sportsman (whether a lover of the chase or gun), and therefore, in ignorance of the doubtless immutable, though to us inexplicable, laws by which it is regulated, we are contented to call it “capricious.” Immediately before heavy rain there frequently is none. It is undeniable that moisture will at one time destroy it,—at another bring it. That on certain days—in slight frost, for instance,—setters will recognise it better than pointers, and, on the other hand, that the nose of the latter will prove far superior after a long continuance of dry weather, and this even when the setter has been furnished with abundance of water,—which circumstance pleads in favour of hunting pointers and setters together. The argument against it, is the usual inequality of their pace, and, to the eye of some sportsmen, the want of harmony in their appearance. Should not this uncertainty respecting the recognition of scent teach us not to continue hunting a good dog who is frequently making mistakes, but rather to keep him at “heel” for an hour or two? He will consider it a kind of punishment, and be doubly careful when next enlarged. Moreover, he may be slightly feverish from overwork, or he may have come in contact with some impurity,—in either of which cases his nose would be temporarily out of order.

[28] There are sportsmen who aver that a setter’s “falling” instead of standing is advantageous, as it does not so much alarm the birds.

[29] Provided always he be not perpetually pointing, as occasionally will happen—and is the more likely to happen if he has been injudiciously taught as a puppy to set chickens, and has thereby acquired the evil habit of “standing by eye;” which, however, may have made him a first-rate hand at pointing crows.

[30] With the understanding that the pace does not make him “shut up” before the day is over.

[31] The more resolute a dog is, the more pains should be taken, before he is shown game, to perfect him in the instant “drop” (26), however far off he may be ranging.

[32] The mention of quails taking to trees recalls to my recollection a novel light infantry manoeuvre (for the exact particulars of which I will not, however, positively pledge myself,) that was conceived with such admirable rapidity by the commanding officer on an occasion of great emergency, and executed with such wonderful celerity by the troops under him, that I hope my professional partialities will be allowed to excuse my describing it.

Bermuda, “the blest little island,” as the fascinating Tommy Moore styles her, although now well supplied with all the necessaries of life, especially since the improvements in husbandry, introduced by its late excellent governor, Colonel R——d (now Sir William), was formerly but little better provided with fresh meat than a man-of-war victualled for a six months’ cruise. At the time I allude to there were but few cows, and only one bull on the islands; and what made matters more disagreeable, it had been slanderously reported of the strange beast that “he was an awfully vicious animal.” It is certain that he bellowed fearfully. The inhabitants (who have always been highly esteemed by those who know them) though they were not at that period as well fed with the roast beef of old England as when I was recently quartered among them, were, notwithstanding, a right loyal set, and prided themselves greatly upon their efficient militia. On a hot day,—as are most of their days,—when these good soldiers were at drill under their esteemed commander—let us say, Col. O——e,—a breathless messenger ran up to him as he was mounted on his grey charger in front of the steady line, and uttered some mysterious words. The gallant colonel’s countenance assumed a look of deep anxiety,—for an instant his cheek blanched,—his lip quivered:—but quickly rallying, he abandoned his horse, and with infinite presence of mind, gave in unfaltering accents the order, “Gentlemen, tree yourselves,—Moll Burgess’s Bull is loose.” Precept and example were here happily combined, and the able commander was among the first to find safety in the topmost branches of a neighbouring cedar. Military annals record no instance of more prompt, zealous obedience.

[33] This dispersion of scent in the atmosphere explains why a dog who carries his head high finds more game than a dog who hunts with his nose near the ground.

[34] When quartered, years ago, in County Wexford, I used frequently to see a fine strong-knit, well-built horse, who could never see me—for he was stone-blind; yet, odd to say, all his progeny had capital eyes.{1} He had rather a queer temper, as his name, “Restless,” partly implied. During the spring he was led about the country, and what is very surprising, there was always a fight to get him past the lane or gate leading to any farm-house where his services had ever before been required. As it is certain that he was perfectly blind, no faculty we can believe him to be possessed of, unless it be memory, will explain how, at such long intervals, he could recognise the many different places so accurately; and if it be attributable to memory, that of the Senior Wrangler of Cambridge’s best year can in no way be compared with it.

{1} This is the more singular, as, from unexplained causes, diseases of that organ are but too common in Ireland. One veterinary surgeon attributed it to the dampness of the climate. His young English horses suffered while at Cork as much as his Irish ones.

[35] Indeed, through a merciful dispensation, it seems to be ordained, that no animal (in the general course of nature) shall die a lingering, painful death from starvation, but shall serve for the nourishment of others before his body becomes attenuated from want.

[36] Numerous accounts have been given of the voracity of the pike. K——g told me of a very remarkable instance, and one which clearly shows that fish do not always suffer so much torture when hooked as many suppose. He was spinning a gudgeon for pike in the river Stour, near Chilham, having bent on four large hooks, back to back, and a large lip-hook. He was run at by a pike, which he struck, but the line unfortunately breaking, the fish carried off fully four yards of it, together with half a yard of gimp, two large swivels, and a lead. K——g put on fresh tackle and bait. At the very first cast he was run at again, and succeeded in landing the fish, which weighed 12 lbs. To K——g’s great surprise, he observed the lost line, swivel, and lead hanging out of its mouth, while,—apparently not much to the animal’s discomfort,—the bait and hooks quietly reposed in its interior. On turning the gullet inside out, K——g found the bait so uninjured that he again fastened it to his line along with the recovered tackle, and actually caught another pike weighing 4 lbs., and a perch of 2½ lbs., with the very gudgeon that had been in the stomach of the large pike for nearly a quarter of an hour.

Those who are fond of trolling for trout would not find their time thrown away in reading Wheatley’s novel hints on all kinds of spinning baits. His “Rod and Line” is an excellent little book.

[37] There are poulterers who would pare such a spur to diminish the appearance of age. The shorter and blunter the spur, and the smoother the leg, the younger is the bird. Dr. Kitchener, who appears not to have had much luck in stumbling upon well-fed pheasants, avers that they have not the flavour of barn-door fowls if they are cooked before they drop from the single tail feather by which, he says, they should be hung up in the larder; or, rather, he advises that two pheasants should be suspended by one feather until both fall. Birds of full, beautiful plumage gratify the eye more than the palate. It is an indication of age in all sorts of birds. The hens are the tenderest. On the body of birds, immediately under the wing, there is what keepers often call, “the condition vein.” The more fat and yellow that appears, the higher is the condition of the animal. Blow aside the feathers of a snipe; and if the flesh is nearly black the bird wants condition,—it should be white.

[38] On the 7th of July, 1836, his kennel was put up to auction, when three of his setters fetched, severally, seventy-two, sixty, and fifty-six guineas. Two puppies brought fifteen guineas each,—and two of his retrievers, “Bess” and “Diver,” forty-six and forty-two guineas.

[39] Entitled, “Field Sports in the United States and British Provinces, by Frank Forester.”

[40] A rule to be followed whenever you employ relays of braces.

[41] That price was named in the Table of Contents of the first edition.

[42] It is admitted, however, that they are often difficult animals to manage; for the least hastiness on the part of the instructor may create a distrust that he will find it very hard to remove.

[43] The first day for killing blackcock.

[44] If painted white it will be the more readily seen and trodden on,—a step advisable preparatory to seizing it, or an ungloved hand may suffer should the dog be ranging rapidly.

[45] Should they (unluckily for the lesson) run, you must endeavour to manage as detailed in 285.

[46] As he acquires experience he will wish to rise the moment he observes that your loading is completed. Do not allow him to move, however correctly he may have judged the time. Let his rising be always in obedience to signal or word. You may occasionally make a mistake in charging, or your friend may not load as expeditiously as yourself.

[47] Never being allowed to grip conduces so much to making him tender-mouthed, that, should he hereafter be permitted to lift his game, it is probable he will deliver it up perfectly uninjured.

[48] Oftener practicable on heather than on stubble.

[49] In order to work in silence, I advised (xi. of 141) that the signal to “heel,” whenever the dog could observe it, should supersede the word “dead.” It might be necessary to sing out with a boatswain’s voice should the dog be far off.

[50] Which becomes white in a severe winter,—a regular ermine; the only one of the weazel-tribe that does so in England.

[51] This note on the subject of trapping, and keeper’s vermin-dogs, &c., is so long that the printer has placed it in an Appendix.

[52]

The cheeta invariably selects the buck, passing by the nearer does and fawns. I never saw but one instance to the contrary. On that occasion the cheeta endeavoured to secure what appeared to be his easiest victim—a young fawn; but the little creature twisted and doubled so rapidly, that it escaped perfectly uninjured. The turbaned keeper, greatly surprised, begged the spectators to remain at a respectful distance while he proceeded to secure the panting, baffled animal. The caution was not unnecessary; for the disappointed beast, though usually very tractable, struck at the man’s arm and tore it. On examination a large thorn was found in one of the animal’s fore-paws, which fully explained the cause of his not bounding after the lord of the herd, when he had, in cat-like manner, stealthily crawled as near as any intervening bushes would afford concealment. This preliminary part of the affair is at times very tedious; the rest is quickly settled: for the wondrous springs of the cheeta (whose form then so apparently dilates,{1} that the observer, if a novice, starts in the belief that he suddenly sees a royal tiger) soon exhaust him, which accounts for his always creeping as near as possible before openly commencing his attack.

The education of the cheeta is no less progressive than that of the dog; and whatever patience the latter may require from his instructor, the former demands far greater; not so much from want of docility, as from the nearly total absence of all the feelings of attachment so conspicuous in the canine race. The cubs when they are very young are stolen from the rocky fastnesses where they are usually bred. They are immediately hooded, and allowed no other exercise than what they can take when they are led about by their keeper. While he is feeding them, he invariably shouts in a peculiar key. In a month or so their eager looks, animated gestures, and possibly cheerful purring, testify that they comprehend its import as fully as a hungry young ensign does “the roast beef of old England.” They are then slightly chained, each to a separate bandy (bullock-cart), and habituated to its motion. They are always fed during the drive. They thus learn to expect a good meal in the course of their airing. After a time the keeper, instead of feeding a promising pupil while he is a prisoner, goes to a little distance from the bandy and utters the singular cries now so joyfully heard, upon which—an attendant slipping off the chain and hood—the liberated cheeta runs to his trainer to be fed. By degrees this is done at increased distances. He is always conducted back to the carriage by the keeper’s dragging at the lump of meat of which the animal retains a firm hold. The next step is for the man again to commence feeding near the cart, but without making any noise,—the removal of the hood being the only thing that tells the spotted beast to look about him for his dinner. The last step is the substitution of a kid or wounded antelope, for the keeper with his provision basket, when it rarely happens that nature’s strong instinct does not make the cheeta seize with eagerness the proffered prey. His education is now completed; but for many months he is never unhooded at a herd unless the driver has managed to get the cart within a very favouring distance.

The cheeta knocks over the buck with a blow of his paw on the hind-quarters, given so rapidly that the eye cannot follow the motion, and then grasps him firmly by the throat; nor will he quit hold of the windpipe as long as the prostrate animal can make the slightest struggle for breath. This affords the keeper ample time to cut off a limb, which he thrusts against the cheeta’s nose, and as soon as the still quivering dainty tempts him to grasp it, he is again led off to his cart. He is then further rewarded with a drink of warm blood taken from the inside of the antelope, and the scene concludes by the carcass being strapped under the bandy.

{1} A dealer often says in praise of a small horse,—and great praise it is—“You may fancy him a little one now, but wait till you see him move, and then you’ll think him a big one.”

[53] Many think that grouse feed more down wind than partridges.

[54] A pace that keeps the sportsman at a brisk walk is obviously the best. It is very annoying to be unable, by any quiet encouragement, to get a dog to “road” as rapidly as you wish—an annoyance often experienced with naturally timid dogs, or with those which have been overpunished.

[55] “Suwarrow’s” manoeuvre (530) clearly shows the true reason.

[56] The speed with which one of these extremely beautiful, but in every other respect far, far inferior partridges will run, when only slightly wounded, is quite marvellous.

[57] The force of the word “Dead” (preceding the command “Find”)—that joyous, exciting note of triumph—ought never to be lessened by being employed, as I have heard it, to stimulate a dog to hunt when no bird is down; or, like the shepherd-boy’s cry of “Wolf! wolf!” it will have little influence at the moment when it should most animate to unremitting exertions.

[58] After a touseling you may have observed the dog rubbing his nose in the grass. He did right. I have lately had reason to think that when from the absence of grass a dog could not effectually wipe his nose, the fine down adhering to it has for some time interfered with the delicacy and discrimination of his olfactory organs. He got too near his birds before acknowledging them. Would you be shocked if I asked you to assist him occasionally in freeing his nostrils from the offending feathers?

[59] In favour of such unsportsman-like haste they ingeniously argue that a continued noise after firing makes birds lie, from attracting their attention. They say that a sudden change to quiet (and a great change it must be, for a chasseur is always talking) alarms the birds. As an evidence of this, they adduce the well-known fact of its frequently happening that a partridge gets up the moment the guns have left the spot, though no previous noise had induced it to stir.

[60] Had you lost the bird from there being but little scent, it is probable you might have found it by renewing your search on your return homewards in the evening. If a runner, it would most likely have rejoined the covey.

[61] “Toho,” rather than “Drop,”—your object now being to make him stand at, and prevent his mouthing game; for you are satisfied that he would have “down charged” had the bird been missed.

[62] Of course, with the proviso that he is not pointing at another bird (274).

[63] Lest the cord should cut the turnip-tops, it might be better to employ the elastic band spoken of in 60.

[64] A superior dog on grouse more easily becomes good on partridge than a superior partridge-dog becomes good on grouse. Grouse run so much, both when they are pairing, and after the first flight of the young pack, that a dog broken on them has necessarily great practice in “roading,” (“roading,” too, with the nose carried high to avoid strong heather—a valuable instructor), whereas the dog broken on partridge often becomes impatient, and breaks away when he first finds grouse. The former dog, moreover, will learn not to “break fence,” and the necessity of moderating his pace when hunting stubbles and turnips, sooner than the latter will acquire the extensive fast beat so desirable on heather, where he can work for hours uninterrupted by hedge, ditch, or furrow; making casts to the right and left a quarter of a mile in length. First impressions are as strong in puppyhood as in childhood; therefore the advantage of having such ground to commence on must be obvious. There are, however, favoured spots in Perthshire, &c., where game so abounds that close rangers are as necessary as when hunting in England. Alas! even the grouse-dog will take far too quickly to hedge-hunting and pottering when on the stubbles. It is, of course, presumed that he is broken from “chasing hare”—a task his trainer must have found difficult (though none are ever shot to him) from the few that, comparatively speaking, his pupil could have seen. Independently, however, of want of pace and practice in roading, it never would be fair to take a dog direct from the Lowlands to contend on the Highlands with one habituated to the latter,—and vice versÂ, for the stranger would always be placed to great disadvantage. A faint scent of game which the other would instantly recognise, he would not acknowledge from being wholly unaccustomed to it. Sometimes, however, a grouse-dog of a ticklish temper will not bear being constantly called to on “breaking fence.” A fine, free ranging pointer, belonging to one of the brothers H——y, when brought to an enclosed county, became quite subdued and dispirited. He could not stand the rating he received for bounding over the hedges, and he evidently derived no enjoyment from the sport, though there were plenty of birds. On returning to the Highlands, he quite recovered his animation and perseverance. He added another to the many evidences that dogs are most attached to, and at home on, the kind of country they first hunted.

[65] The ears of young hares tear readily; and there is a gristly substance, larger than half a pea, at the end of the shank-bone of the fore-leg, just above the joint, which departs with youth. Their smooth, close, sharp claws disappear afterwards; and when quite old their jaw-bones become so strong as not to yield and crack to the strongest pressure of your fingers.

When you observe that the carving knife performs the part of curling-tongs, prefer a help from the birds at the top of the table.

Ditto, ditto, in all particulars, with regard to rabbits.

[66] This appears extremely cruel; remember, however, that I entreated you to abstain entirely from shooting hares; but if you would not make this sacrifice, at least “only to fire at those which you were likely to kill outright” (332).

[67] Thus greatly improving it for table. The cook who first thought of breaking the legs of birds, and dragging out the sinews, ought to be immortalized. The first person I saw practising the feat was an admirable black man-cook, in the West Indies: he was preparing turkeys for a large supper; and, to my great surprise, I saw him take up each bird, cut the skin in front of and about the middle of its legs, crack the bone across that part with a blow of the knife; then stick the sinews of the foot on a hook fixed high against the wall, seize firm hold of the thigh of the turkey, give a sudden powerful pull, and leave the lower part of the leg, with a large body of sinews, perfectly stripped of all flesh, suspended on the hook.

[68] A singular evidence of the influence of example was furnished by a favourite charger belonging to the father of the present Lord G——d. As a reward for gallant service, she had been turned out for life, when only seven years old, on the banks of the Shannon. She had a shed to run into, and plenty of hay in winter. It pleased her, in all seasons, daily to have a swim in the river. Year after year colts were turned out on the same grass. All these, following the example set them by the mare, voluntarily took to the water, and gradually became expert swimmers. Until within a short time of her death, and she attained the unusual age of forty-three, she continued to bathe; and I have heard that she was evidently much puzzled and vexed whenever from the stream being frozen she could not get her plunge. She would walk a little way on the ice, but finding it too slippery, unwillingly return.

[69] The continuation of the vertebrÆ of the back, and clearly, therefore, an indication of their substance. Query—Was it because our grandfathers knew that a tail naturally short was a pledge of stamina, that they endeavoured to imitate it by docking their horses and pointers? Curiously enough, the points named in 364 as desirable in a dog are considered good in a horse. In portraits of the useful old English hunter, you never see a feeble, flexible neck,—it is desirable that it should be arched,—a dog’s neck also should be sufficiently strong, and put on high. Neither horse nor dog should have large fleshy heads,—and a full bright eye is in both a sign of spirit and endurance. The canon bone in a horse should be short, so ought the corresponding bone of a dog’s leg; and every joint ought to be large, yet clean; and (without a bull) the short ribs in both animals should be long. There are hardy horses whose flesh you cannot bring down without an amount of work that is injurious to their legs,—there are also thrifty dogs which are constantly too fat, unless they are almost starved, and common sense tells us they cannot be so starved without their strength being much reduced. The analogy does not hold with respect to ears, for it is generally considered that the dog’s should be soft and drooping, lying close to his head—not short and ever in motion. Moreover, most men would wish his muzzle to be broad as well as long.

Our eye is so accustomed to the sight of weeds,—animals bred for short-lived speed, not for endurance,—that we no longer look for, and possibly do not properly appreciate, the short back (though long body), with scarcely room for a saddle; and the width between the upper part of the shoulder-blades (as well as the lower)—the indication of space within—upon which points our forefathers justly set great value. We forget its being mentioned of Eclipse, whose endurance is as undeniable as his speed, that he had a “shoulder broad enough to carry a firkin of butter,”—and that Stubb’s portraits of winners (of races four and occasionally six miles long!) show that they possessed powerfully muscular, as well as slanting shoulders. The frame of a clever Welsh, or New Forest pony, if his head is set on at a considerable angle with his neck, is perfection. It might with profit be studied by any youngster wishing to form his eye, and know what, on an enlarged scale, should be the build of a real hunter,—an animal fitted for every kind of work. The Arabs so much prize a short back and lengthy quarters, that they have a proverb to the effect that a horse which measures the same from the hip-bone to the end of his croupe, that he does from the hip-bone to the withers, is a blessing to his master. Another assertion of theirs is, that all their fastest horses measure less from the middle of the withers to the setting on of the tail, than they do from the middle of the withers to the extremity of the nose, or rather extremity of the upper lip. This measurement is supposed to be taken along the crest of the neck, over the forelock, and between the eyes.

It is sometimes so difficult to get a horse into condition, and the following recipe, given me by an old cavalry officer who is an excellent stable-master, is so admirable, that I need not apologize for inserting it:—

“Give three{1} ounces of cold drawn linseed oil in a cold mash every alternate night for a fortnight. If you judge it advisable, repeat the same after an interval of a fortnight. The good effects of the oil are not immediately visible, but in about a month the horse’s coat will become glossy, and he will commence putting up good hard flesh.”

The daily rubbing in a portion of the following ointment into a horse’s hoof (especially after exercise in moist ground, and on removal of wet bandages, before any evaporation can take place,) will prevent, indeed cure, brittleness—that constant precursor of contracted feverish feet:—
Tar (not Coal Tar).
Soft Soap.
Soap Cerate.
Hog’s Lard.
½ lb. of each well mixed together over a very slow fire.

{1} 20 oz. = 1 imperial pint.